The St. Johns herald., 1887-10-06
THE FUNERAL.

hnel there SLOWLY through ln0 NlHuOW
 came plain;ive funeral hymn; And sympa hy awakened, and a won-
 der quickly grew,
 Till found myself environed in a little
 negro pew.
 Out at front a colored couple sat in sor-
 row, nearly wild;
 On the altar was a coffin, in the coin
 was child.
 I co i'd picture him when living-curly
 hair, protruding lip And had seen perhaps thousani ] in my
 hurried southern trip. Bat no baby ever rested in the soothing
 arms of death
 That had famed more flames Of sorrow
 with h:s little fluttering breath; And no funeral ever glIstened with more
 sympathy profound Than was in the chain of sear dro~s that
 enclaspad those mourners round. Rose a sad oil colored preacher at the
 little wooden desk With a manner grandly awkward, with
 countenance grotesque; With simplic ty and shrewdness on his
 Eth opian face;
 With the ignorance and wisdom of
 cruSneu, uuoS lHB idC5' And he sad: "Now don be weepin' for
 d pretty bit O clay For de little boy who lived here, he done
 gene an run away He was do:n' very finely, an he 'preciate
 your love;
 But his sure ruff Father want him in de
 largs house up above. "Now He didn't give you dat baly, by
 undred thousan' mile! Ee just think you need some sunshine,
 an He lend it for whilel An He let you keep an love it till your
 hear was bigger grown: An desc silv' tears you're sheddin's
 jest de interest on de loan. "Here yer oder pretty cLilruR don't
 be mak n it appear Dat your love got sort O 'noro.iZed hy
 nis lit fellow here; Don pile up too much your sorrow on deir little mental shelves, Sos to kind o Set 'em wonderin' 1T dey're
 10 account themselves! "Just you think, you poor dear noun
 ahS, creepin' Ion o CT Sorrows way, What . blessed little picnic Gs yelc
 baby's got today! Your good iaders and good mode
 crowd de little fe low round In dc angei-tendel garden of de Egg
 Plantation Ground. An dey ask him Was ycur feet sore?'
 an take of his little sho 8, An dey wash him, an dey kiss him, an
 dey say: 'Now what's Ge news.' An de Lawd done cut his tongue loose;
 den de little fellow say: Al, our folks down in de valley tres to
 keep de bebbealy way "An' his eyes dey brightly sparkle at de
 pretty things lie view; Den tear come, and he whisper: But
 want my paryelts, too! But de An el Chief Musi ian teach dat
 boy little song; Says If only dey be falttul dey will
 soon Le comin' long, "An' he'll get an education dat w.ll
 probe. ply be worth Ssbrral times as much as any you could
 bay for h-m on cath: the throng becomes frantic with enthu- siasm as it repeats it with many q quaint stanza. An ecstatic sister takes up the burden again with |" Good Mr. Jesus sittin' in Ge prow. Come all yo' niggahs, make yo' bow; On. look down on de vol below, An watch dem white trash shublln'
 snow. While an, el fishes da nip my toe, Whae dip in de Golen Sea" Then the responsive chorus swells out. and again the basso proft,ndo of the crew determines that the sterS shall not have monopoly of the solo par s, so he brerks in and crus hirgly refers 10 the Q. ratic mother of them all: 1" or Adam he wah de fus' built man, Oats jis what de Good Book say; An Ebe come mex, den sin began. Dai's jis what de Good Book s1y. E. 6 bit de apple right in two, A wicked flIIg fo' Ebe to do;
 Yes. Gat's what de Good Book say!' But Lis eff, IFS to sience them is fu- tile. for they join him with lnaba!ed gusto in
 ' Oats jes what de Good Book say, is
 am; Yes, dat what de Good Book sayi Jes' read it iroo; you'll fin it true. To dat'S what de Good BJCk say" Anoth Biblical expounder is quick at aud to continue the song: l" DIh wah men he ame wah Lot; Oats jisTwhat de Good Book say, An he h wife an daughters Ot, Oats jis' what de Coed Book say, He wife she balk an make halt, An de Lord he turn hah into sat; Oh! oat's what de Goou Book sayr' But the swaying. time-bec ting crowd 1 on shore,is ow fast receding from view. and the boats many-vofced crew unite5 l With heart-s,irCiag care tness .n !" I'se gwine fom de cotton feds, rso !
 gwine f'om de cane. I'se gwine fom de or l, s hat dat stan's
 down in de lane; De boat am in d riber, dat am como to |
 take me of, i An I'se cwine O jine de cx-o-d~s an |
 strike out fo' de Nof.' And afar over the moon-l.t waters | faint notes of weir melodies came float ing Ike distant echo oi this pathetic | strain,
 TorGetful To Entertain Strangers. X Christian gentleman wishing to hear !